Lost... And then She Was Found

The 22nd and 23rd of December 2010 were like an angry sea of emotions around here. Lars and I were at each other’s throats – both of us saying one thing and being heard as saying another; both of us too stubborn to stand back and look at the situation. By the end, we were both taking cheap shots at one another and I finally decided I was done. I asked that he stay the fuck away from me. He spent the night of the 22nd in the suite next door as I was working too late to leave myself. By the 23rd, we’d calmed down but I was certain I was done with this relationship, this man, this part of my life that has the power to fill me with such hate and loathing for someone I otherwise love.

I was convinced that the holidays were ruined. I was certain I was starting the New Year single and so was he. And then he reminded me he loved me. He reminded me it didn’t have to be the end if we didn’t want it to be. He convinced me that we could learn from this fight, overcome it and be stronger than ever before. He washed away my fears with his conviction. We planned to spend a quiet night together recovering from our emotional blows before family arrived for Christmas.

He came home from work early and unexpectedly. He hugged me. He held my hand and gave me an early Christmas gift, insisting that I open it immediately. It was one of the 1st gifts he bought me.

Inside the perfectly wrapped silver box was a little mahogany box protecting the biggest, most beautiful diamond ring I’ve ever seen! When I told him I wanted diamonds for Christmas, I was half joking and the part of me that wasn’t, wasn’t expecting anything so sincerely grand. With the diamond ring he handed me a little stocking that said, ‘For Very Expensive Little Things’. There was a card inside. He said, “This, you don’t open now. This comes with the ring, but this, you open when you’re ready.”

I knew what was inside the stocking. I was terrified of it. He knew I was terrified of it. That’s exactly why he gave it to me the way he did. We spent that night together cuddling on the couch and discussing the conditions that I might open that stocking. More than the question at hand, I was curious to know what exactly the card said. What romantic words he had to share. It was almost eating me alive. He assured me I didn’t ever have to open the stocking if I didn’t want to. He promised we could wait as long as I wanted if I did open the stocking, for the actual celebration to take place. He agreed to any condition I may or may not choose to set. He just wanted me to know what his wishes were, and what they always would be. I was good with that.

On Christmas Eve, I opened the stocking. The romantic words I’m keeping for me. But know, I said ‘Yes’. We are now engaged to be married. We have not set a date. We will not set a date for a long while yet; not until I’m ready. We’re both ok with that. We both know we are promised to one another.

As for the stormy fight… It wasn’t the first and it probably won’t be the last. But through each of them we learn and grow to love one another more. His mom and sister now stay almost silent when I bitch about him, offering love and support of emotions, but declining to comment as I exclaim that I’m certain I’m done with Lars. It’s like they know that we were meant to be and any strife we may suffer is only temporary, even though I do not see it. They know that as stubborn as I may be and as certain as I am that it’s over, Lars is just as stubborn but certain that we’ll be together 60 years from now. It’s a battle I hope he always wins.

…the answer to getting what I want. I graduated my IGCSE’s way back in 1998 or so. Being a student in an International School in Dubai, UAE, this was the high school equivalent. I went from completing my IGCSE’s to the American University, where I studied just two semester’s of Visual Communications before leaving school behind and heading into the workforce. I didn’t want to study Visual Communications and at the time, it was pretty much that, Business or Interior Design available as accredited diploma options. I wasn’t interested in any of these.

Nonetheless, with all this education behind me and the opportunity to study whatever the hell I want now; that ‘whatever the hell’ being Exercise and Wellness, I need to first be able to answer questions like, ’ One factor of a² -8a +12 is…’ to even be admitted. I have long since forgotten the methods to such equations and for the life of me I do not know the answer (or even how to go about getting it). All the math I do these days is calculated with either an electronic device or some sort of computer program. I do very little actual mathematical thinking.

So, I’m going back to school – and I mean high school, at least for Math 11 & 12, Biology 12 and maybe some English recaps (because lord knows I don’t know how to read or write). Of course, I’ll take these courses online. I have an orientation meeting on Jan 6th with an advisor about how to best reach my goals prior to my actual fulltime college classes starting on campus in September 2011. The idea of all this learning is exciting to me. I really must be a geek at heart!

But last night, Jod’s and I looked at some of these prep questions from the assessment test and laughed our asses off about how much we’ve forgotten and how little we seem to know now. It’s true that in many aspects of real life, you really don’t need to know all the mathematical applications you’re taught in high school – and many teens will probably grow to forget the majority of what they’re forced to learn. Like myself, they won’t even realize it. It’s suckers like me that decide more than a decade down the road we want a career with scientific edge to it; suckers like me that end up having to go back and re-learn this stuff.

Monday of this week was by far the worst workday of my entire professional life. From the moment ‘I got into the office’ (I don’t actually physically go into my office, I remote in from home) until the moment I left it seemed my boss was kicking my ass. Add to that multiple technical issues and system malfunctions and the day chopped up to pure hell. The rest of this week has followed the same suit. My stress levels are through the roof and it seems in my history with this company, they get that way once or twice a year. Stress is causing me to be careless, to miss the obvious and to offer below-personal-standard results to any task. I am making way too many mistakes and right now and as a result of which I do not feel as though I’m any good at what I do. Feeling like this, only encourages more mistakes and negativity, and it’s a viscous cycle…

Now I’m not a big, ’follow-the-signs’ type person, but I can’t help but think these are the signs I should be listening to when it comes to making a decision about going back to school. In fact, I can’t help but think I’ve made up my mind and if it’s at all possible, I’m going. Now, to get my academic records from Dubai is where the problem is…

Despite all the bad that seems to be, there’s a been a lot of good as well… Last night while at work Lars came into my home office and handed me a card, signed by the dog. All it said inside was, “You have to go pee.” Call it coincidence, or call it whatever you will, but it was time for a bathroom break and coffee refill. I punched out of rotation and made my way to the bathroom, stopping for a long hug along the way. In his arms, he turned my face towards the door and my new elliptical. I shrieked with pure joy.

This man stops at nothing to please me. He has moments of stubborn arrogance and ego, but so do I. And knowing that, I do believe I’m the luckiest girl on earth with the man who was built just for me.

I woke up this morning and logged onto Facebook. Staring me in the face was this status, ‘Ask yourself, what would you love to do and then do it. R.I.P. John Lennon.’

The timing is impeccable, as lately, I’ve been asking myself what it is I love and whether or not I should be making some major life changes. For a long time I wasn’t able to answer a question like, ‘What do I like,’ or ‘What makes me happy.’ My answers were always something along the line of, ‘I can’t tell you want I want or love, but I can tell you what I don’t want or don’t love.’ Times are changing, evolving and so am I. I’ve learned I love endorphins. I love physical activity (once I get into the routine). I love working out at the gym. I’ve learned I love to laugh. I love comedy. I enjoy good, wholehearted company. I’ve learned I love people and I’ve learned I love to learn.

So I’m thinking about going back to school. To be precise, I’ve been thinking about going back to college to get a degree in Exercise & Wellness. It would mean becoming a full-time student for two years. It would cost around $8000. I would have to take a student loan, and I would have to either leave my job or reduce my hours to part-time. But in the end, I would come out with a degree in something I love, a stepping-stone to further education if I want it, a potential career as a personal trainer or something along those lines and a healthier, possibly happier me.

I’m scared of change though. And this is a big one. Perhaps it’s a leap of faith in me that I have to take?

When I came back to Canada three years ago, I allowed myself to somewhat join in on the Christmas festivities. Christmas was after all, my, like every other child’s, favorite holiday. Religiously, no longer a celebrator, I still worked my full eight hours last year and the year before, and I took the most undesirable shift possible (so someone who celebrates didn’t have to).

Last year was a bit different though, as it was the first Christmas without my mom. Everyone was set in his or her thoughts that Christmas would be terribly glum. I did everything in my power to make that impossible. I did everything I could to create a brilliant Christmas for my loved ones. I thought maybe, it could offer us all hope.

I brought home a tree and I decorated it. I bought countless gifts for my family, and Sam (who was at that time staying at my house) and her daughter (who I would pick up from her father’s house to join us on Christmas morning). I knew there would be very little under the tree for me as my family here consisted of my brother, who can’t seem to hold onto a job and my father, who though generous all year round, has never been good at gifts on demand. Sam was financially inept and totally selfish, so it came as no surprise that she spent what little money she had saved by not paying rent on herself, her daughter and her new boyfriend.

I didn’t want a single person to feel bad on Christmas morning. And I figured they would, if they opened gifts while I sat empty-handed. So, while I stuffed stockings for others, I also stuffed one for myself. I bought myself small gifts and wrapped them. I failed to sign my name to any single gift under the tree, so it wasn’t obvious to anyone, not even Sam’s daughter, that I had purchased 99% of them.

And Christmas last year was a hit. Everyone had a great time, and my heart was filled with absolute joy. The only thing that was missing was my mom. I know if she were looking down, she’d be proud of the Christmas I single-handedly created, despite my personal religious convictions.

This year, I have way less money than last, but I cannot help feel the festivities in the air.

We bought a live tree instead of cut, feeling it is more environmentally friendly and convenient to do so. Live trees don’t drop as many needles and we can put it outside after the holiday’s, watch it grow till next year when we’ll bring it in and decorate it again.

I have been shopping since mid-October, to make up for any financial loss and ensure that everyone is again spoiled. And this year, thanks to Lars, I too will be sincerely spoiled; He’s stuffed my stocking and bought me gifts and I won’t know what they are until I open them on Christmas morning. My father has thrown money at the both of us either by shopping with us or refusing rent payments, to help purchase necessities and gifts on his behalf.

The closets and nooks in the house are already filled with beautifully wrapped boxes, contents unknown. The excitement reminds me of when I was a little girl. And there are still 18 days left!

The days shall go by quickly, as I head to Squamish again on the 14th for a few days. I am not necessarily looking forward to it. It’s colder there and they’ve got snow, I’ve been told. I really don’t have the choice though… On the 9th I have legal documents to sign, and who knows what else will happen in between.

Religiously, I’m not meant to celebrate this favorite holiday of mine. But these days I can feel the importance of taking part in what your family celebrates and it by no means changes my religious convictions. Besides, I can still remember one Christmas in Dubai, my refusal to celebrate Christmas brought my mother to tears... It was simply wrong, offensive, and selfish of me. I feel the same may very well be true today.

I laughed though it really wasn’t funny. It was a nervous laughter, as I sincerely didn’t know how to answer the question, “do you consider a permanent coma, paralysis from the neck down, or any condition that would require permanent life support and intolerable (unacceptable) condition?”

I was in the Notaries Public office and having just signed off on my Last Will (created for the purpose of keeping two unscrupulous people, I have the misfortune of being related to, away from my estate and personal remains). I had already signed Power of Attorney over to my father and was in the process of signing my “Health and Personal Care Instructions for Representative(s) or Family And Friends, in accordance with Act, s9 Representation Agreement Act, s.16”: a stepping stone before actually signing away my sanity under the Ulysses act. Ulysses act is something serious though. It must be signed in the presence of an attorney, in order for it to be legal. Here’s what is says:

The adult authorizes her Representative to:

(a) physically restrain, move, or manage the adult, or have the adult physically retrained, moved, or managed, when necessary despite the objections of the adult;(b) give consent, in the circumstances specified in the agreement, to specified kinds of heath care, even though the adult is refusing to give consent at the time health care is provided;(c) refuse consent to specified kinds of health care, including life-supporting care or treatment;(d) give consent to specified kinds of health care, including one or more of the kinds of health care prescribed under section 34 (2) (f) of the Health Care (Consent) and Care Facility (Admission) Act;(e) accept facility care proposal under the Health Care (Consent) and Care Facility (Admission) Act for the adult’s admission to any kind of care facility;(f) make arrangements for th temporary care, education and financial support ofi. the adult’s minor children, andii. any other persons who are cared for or supported by the adult;(g) do, on the adult’s behalf, any thing that can be done by an attorney and that is not mentioned in paragraphs (a) to (f) or in section 7 (1);(h & i) Repealed 2001-2-30

Tomorrow, I call to make an appointment with the attorney to literally sign away my sanity in accordance with that act. My mother lost her mind. My worst fear is that I will too. What I’m doing now is being prepared.

It scares the fuck out of me. It makes my death a reality. But it has to be done.

Disclaimer

This is my personal weblog. The thoughts and opinions represented here are mine and mine alone. They do not reflect those of my employers, associates or peers.

I am forever changing and always staying this same; a true living contradiction and as such, my thoughts and opinions change frequently. I may or may not still hold the same opinions noted in out-of-date posts.

By reading my blog, you agree to accept these realities as absolute truth.